


we're all that we need to keep this boat from sinking

by joeysnowy



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeysnowy/pseuds/joeysnowy
Summary: you are five and alone with no family and no home and Bill Seacaster stands before you, all mighty muscle mass and booming loud voice as he tosses the pirates away with a snarl and a laugh. you watch as Bill Seacaster moves with a strength that no regular pirate could wield, like molded iron and gunpowder personified. you fall at his feet and babble praises but Bill Seacaster laughs, takes a hold of your hand and helps you up. he tells you he’s here from solace to show his son the pirate life before his son comes of age. he asks you if you have a home. he asks you to meet his son.
Relationships: Fabian Aramais Seacaster/Alistair Ash
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	we're all that we need to keep this boat from sinking

**Author's Note:**

> this ficlet is CLEARLY for august @cloudmancy, who has opened all our eyes to the wonderful potential that is ashcaster. thank u for supporting this fic, and also shout out to the d20soc for being lovely and encouraging my writing. love u all!
> 
> this is set in an au where the seacasters return to leviathan for fabian's adolesence, and to introduce him to The Pirate Life. don't think about the logistics too hard please i just wanted to make alistair and fabian childhood friends
> 
> title from 'abandon ship' by steffan argus, whose entire 'lost at sea' ep IS just fabian seacaster

sometimes you are five years old in a pirate city with no family and nothing to call home and this spot in the sea is both bigger and smaller than you can imagine. sometimes you are five and you have very few playmates because though you don’t yet have the devilish characteristics that will grow in a couple of years, there are people who whisper about your parentage and those whispers travel wide. sometimes you are five and alone and playing in an alleyway when a shootout breaks out in a building across the street and you are held at crossbow point by a man with more teeth in his mouth than hairs on his head and you are whimpering and struggling to breathe against his arm at your neck and your vision fades white--

you are five and alone with no family and no home and Bill Seacaster stands before you, all mighty muscle mass and booming loud voice as he tosses the pirates away with a snarl and a laugh. you watch as Bill Seacaster moves with a strength that no regular pirate could wield, like molded iron and gunpowder personified. you fall at his feet and babble praises but Bill Seacaster laughs, takes a hold of your hand and helps you up. he tells you he’s here from solace to show his son the pirate life before his son comes of age. he asks you if you have a home. he asks you to meet his son.

his son is quiet, like you are. he’s your age, practically, but much taller than you. he watches his father with the kind of awe you’ve seen in the temples of Leviathan, at the shrines when people don’t know how to speak. you know you owe his father a debt and you don’t know how to repay it back properly, but you’re in his house (which is bigger than almost three apartments put end to end) and you’re meeting his family and you have neither, so you step up to his son and say my name is alistair ash, what’s yours? and his son says My name is Fabian Seacaster, do you know what bloodrush is?

in the presence of Fabian Seacaster, you become Alistair Ash, proper capitalizations and everything. Bill Seacaster lets you run in and out of his home at any moment, so Fabian Seacaster and Alistair Ash become a pair that dominates the streets, leading gangs of children that would have avoided alistair if you had tried to play with them just two months ago but worship and follow Alistair’s every move. and sure, your only orders are word for word what Fabian says, and yes, sometimes you have to wait until Fabian finishes lessons with his solesian tutor to go play in the city, but it’s all worth it for the way Fabian says your name, the way you see his eyes glow.

you play pirate king vs Bill Seacaster, and your little audience of pirate children cheers as Fabian mimes slashing your throat for the fourth time that day. Fabian buys warm pastries from shopkeepers and splits them with you, and the steam scalds your face but you don’t care. together you learn the best places to hide and the worst places to steal from and which elders pay better for a message to be carried across the city. with Fabian Seacaster at your side you climb up to four castles without fear (no one would dare hurt Bill Seacaster’s son) and watch as the Leviathan moves and shakes under the weight of its unending journey across the celestine sea. 

Fabian turns six, seven, eight, and with each birthday comes a crowing announcement from Bill, a glee in watching his little darling boy shoot upwards into his height. he throws parties that last days and showers his son in gifts, and Fabian accepts it all with wide eyes and an even wider grin. lanterns sway in the courtyard of the house of Seacaster, and you can see it reflected in his eyes that he thinks this will last forever.

you have never known your birthday like Fabian Seacaster has. you count your age by the number of times you have seen the midwinter festivals, like many other orphans of Leviathan do. Fabian Seacaster can trace his life back through the stories his father tells him but you, you only have the old rumor mill of your double devil parentage, the stories of curses and bad luck that weave their way and embed themselves into you.

(you are lucky-- this is more than can be said for an orphan of Leviathan.)

when you are eight you break your leg and the nurses of the street clinic purse their lips and set the bone, while fabian-- not Fabian-- worries at the door and paces at your side. you’re nine and you’re staring at the most beautiful golden necklace on display and you’re so enamored you don’t notice the burly shopkeeper barking at you until Fabian tugs you away. you’re twelve and you’re watching Fabian dance while laughing with his mother, who has taken a rare step out of her chambers to grace her son’s party with her presence. 

she’s beautiful, you think with your chin on your knees. but of course, all elves are beautiful. you’ve heard the shanties the sailors sing. all elves are gold, all dwarves are iron, all pirates are the sharpened cutlass and gunpowder blown, and Fabian--

fabian, with gold in his eyes and silver in his hair has noticed you at the edge of the party, fabian covered in bright colorful scarves and laughter crackling through your ears, fabian seacaster is pulling you away from the courtyard into his bedroom and you’re cackling at him and not paying attention to what he’s doing but then he pulls out a box from under his bed and shoves it at you with his eyes gleaming.

it’s your party too, he says, and he says it like he really means it.

you open the box and for a moment you lose your breath. its a locket made of gold that looks too pure for your hands to even touch it, but then he urges you to open it and you see inside it a small portrait of the two of you. it must have been done with solesian magics, you can’t think of how a pirate could have done work this intricate, and you’re staring and staring because no one has ever given you a gift this expensive. it’s beautiful and it’s  _ yours _ and it has fabian written all over it, his earnestness to please and his boldness that only you know. this is a gift that only fabian seacaster could have gotten for alistair ash. this is a treasure pirates could only dream of.

(it hurts that you can’t live in it forever.)

you grow up, as all children do. the dream never lasts as long as you hope it does. Fabian Seacaster leaves for solace, back where there are screens that speak and a sport that involves tackling and ball passing but not a lot of magic. you are fourteen, and fabian seacaster has taken you aside to say goodbye, and he touches the nubs on your forehead that are fulfilling the promises of every rumor that has surrounded you since you were born on this ship. the weight of his locket hangs heavy around your neck.

i’ll come back, he tells you. i was born to be a pirate. Leviathan is my home.

you watch him and his father and his mother, legends of Leviathan, leave on a sailboat that’s bigger than most apartments you’ve seen in the city. you see him turn away from the ship you’ve lived on all your life and never once look back. you are fourteen, and alone, and you’ve known Fabian Seacaster long enough to know when he’s lying.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @apostropheis and on twitter @knittedbond!


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